


Suspended Animation

by avadedrahetarra



Series: Suspended Animation [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Strong Language, alcohol use, threats toward children
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:56:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4030951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avadedrahetarra/pseuds/avadedrahetarra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sandman, a notorious yet unknown Demon, has landed his hands on the boys. Now, he has snared them in a deadly game of cat-and-mouse, locking them in their memories in an effort to cosmically alter their pasts, and ruin their futures. Sam and Dean must find each other in the tangled web of the Sandman’s making and free themselves, before time runs out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suspended Animation

As soon as Dean opened his eyes, he regretted it.

Being held immobile, he was used to. Having his limbs rendered useless, while disconcerting and weird, was also nothing new. But being suspended God knew how many feet in the air, facing an ornate ceiling, with nothing but six or seven inches of air between his chest and a forbiddingly nasty looking iron spike… THAT was a new one.

Rolling his eyes to the right and left, Dean was even more put-off by what little his peripheral vision could tell him. Whatever hoodoo was holding him was potent. Not even his little toe could give a wiggle.

“Sam?” he called out softly, only vaguely shocked that he could move his mouth, let alone speak. “Hey, Sammy? You there?”

“Right here,” came the soft reply. “Can you move?”

“Nope. Not even a little.”

Dean heard Sam’s sigh of agitation and couldn’t hide the tiny smirk. Anything that got Sammy irked enough to do _that_ was something special. Thinking quickly, Dean tried to assess the situation.

“Sammy… do you know what day it is?” he called softly.

“No clue,” Sam said back after a moment. “I can’t see any windows.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

The pause that followed this question was longer. So long, actually, that Dean was about to repeat himself when Sam finally answered.

“Salt Lake City.”

Dean cursed, his voice echoing. If his arms hadn’t been immobilized, he might have hit something. The Salt Lake job had been three weeks ago. Three weeks.

“Nothing else?” he got out through gritted teeth. “Nothing after Utah?”

“No, Dean.” Sam’s voice sounded defeated. “Nothing. I’ve tried, believe me.”

Closing his eyes again, Dean forced himself to remain calm. He hated when Sam sounded like that. It reminded him too damn much of when they were kids, and good old John Winchester had gone off without them yet again.

_“Don’t cry, Sammy… dad will be back soon, you betcha. Come on, Sammy… watch cartoons with me…”_

Grunting, Dean opened his eyes again.

“Castiel?” he whispered. “Cas? Come on, you feathered son of a bitch. Where are you? Cas?”

“I’m here, Dean,” came the flat, emotionless voice from somewhere below. “I’m going to try and get you down.”

Dean almost shouted with relief when he felt the Angel’s power start to wrap around his body. He inched downward, feeling the tug of whatever other power was holding him up. Just as he was sure Castiel’s efforts would win, he heard the familiar sound of metal on metal, and his movement stopped. Dean didn’t even have to strain his ears to know what the sound was. The Angel Sword. Someone, or some _thing_ , was down there with Cas. Gritting his teeth, he found himself listening, waiting for Castiel to tell him that he’d won the struggle and resume bringing him and Sam back to earth. Instead, he ears picked up more metal on metal, a few faint grunts, followed by an explosion of breath and a solid _thump._

“Cas?” Sam said quietly, his voice barely daring to hope.

“No… I’m afraid not.”

The disembodied voice hit the brothers like a bag of bricks. This wasn’t Castiel. Someone had bested their Angel. Dean’s jaw twitched, he clenched it so hard.

“If you’ve killed him, you son of a bitch…” he growled out.

“Ah Dean,” the voice sounded amused. “Idle chatter and empty threats. Tsk. I expected so much more from the famous Winchester brothers.”

Dean realized he was moving as Sam came into view… upside down. Sammy looked somewhere between terrified and pissed. Not a good mix.

“It’s alright, Sammy,” Dean said to his brother, trying to ease that expression. “We’ve been in some tough scraps, and we’ve got out of’em, too.”

“Mm, we’ll see,” the voice came again, but much closer this time. “I think you’ll find that this is not your normal, everyday, garden variety ‘scrap.’”

The ‘voice’ finally came into view. The vessel was a middle-aged man with an open, almost friendly smile on his face. But the eyes… those were pitch black.

“Demon,” Dean shot off, his expression contorting. “Should have known. Where’s Cas?”

Reaching down, the Demon hefted the unconscious Angel by the back of his worn trench coat. There was a thin stream of blood running from his left temple, some of it tracing the line of his closed eye. “He’s here. Alive, for now.”

Smiling, the Demon dropped him back onto the floor. Sam flinched at the sound of Castiel’s body hitting the floor.

“Who are you?” the younger Winchester managed to ask, his voice low.

“Me?” The Demon tittered. “I’m not much of anyone, but I am most definitely someone. You can call me… the Sandman.” With a light laugh and a wave of his hand, Sam’s face slackened into unconsciousness and his body went back up to the ceiling. “And you, Dean Winchester…” Sandman’s face darkened, but the smile remained. “You, I have been _desperate_ to meet. Most… desperate.”

The Demon circled Dean’s prone form slowly, waving a hand so he lay flat on his back once more.

“What do you want with us?” Dean barked out, trying to sound tough even though he was helpless.

“What do I want?” Sandman stepped up on Dean’s right side, laying a hand lightly on his chest, very near the amulet hidden beneath his shirt. “I want… to reshape the past… so that the future is free and clear of your threat.”

With a flash, Sandman’s hand sank into Dean’s chest. Dean screamed, agony flooding every part of him. Just before his world went dark, Dean thought he heard Sandman laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like a mental image for my Sandman, look up Conner Trineer on Google. You won't regret it. =^__^=
> 
> I do not ship the boys, or any characters in the show. So please do not read this looking for Wincest, Destiel, or Sastiel. Thanks.


End file.
